Working with Messy Kids, Part 2

Who cares?​

Before I go any further, here’s a brief rundown of where I work:
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The Arkansas Juvenile Assessment and Treatment Center is a DYS-owned facility run by Rite of Passage, a company that oversees similar programs nation-wide. There are other ROP/DYS facilities in the state, but AJATC is the largest, central hub.

The student-athletes at ROP – student-athlete is their official title – come from all over Arkansas and are there because a judge said so. During intake, they receive medical, psychological, and educational evaluations before a treatment plan is decided. From there, they are assigned either to another facility or one of the 6 units on site. The kids wear uniforms that look like any other school uniform and participate in daily activities. As part of the programming, they have ways to earn different ranks, which have different responsibilities and privileges that come with them. They are not behind bars, but it is a secure facility. All units and rooms require a key and the students are under constant supervision.

Education is part of their treatment. It’s pretty much a given that they are behind, so the students go to school year round, M-Th, with enhancement activities on Friday morning. A few years ago, a state ruling decided the classes would be taught by Virtual Arkansas. The VA teachers do a really great job, but whether or not online school is the right format for these kids is debatable. In addition to the VA classes, we have Vo-Tech, GED, and World of Works, which helps graduates with college and career prep. Also built into the school day are treatment groups and one-on-one therapy sessions.

The watertower is a central landmark at AJATC.

 When I began at ROP, they had not had a GED instructor for quite some time. I’d been told they really wanted a new teacher, yet it was also true they’d been left to study on their own all summer and that I’d be the outsider walking into their territory. So, it wasn’t much of a surprise that I didn’t get the warmest of welcomes. They didn’t trust me. To them, I was just another grown-up showing up “to help them.” Given that almost every kid in their position has been let down by many, many adults, I respected their skepticism.  

​Adding to their distrust was the fact that there was a hold on all GED testing. The previous spring, the person in my position and a few others were caught helping the kids cheat. This led to firings and a stop to all testing while the site went under severe scrutiny from GED Testing Services. The kids were understandably frustrated. They thought that having a teacher again would mean they could test again. When my arrival didn’t result in immediate changes, they became angry. Since I was there, they were angry with me. It wasn’t all bad, and most of the kids were pretty chill, but there was a stubborn few, who nearing release, cut their loses and saw no reason to try anything I suggested.

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 During all this, I stayed neutral, and I stayed calmed. Mostly. My quiet nature confused them. At least I assume so because, one the day two of the angriest hotheads tried to get under my skin and convince me to quit. They said I was too quiet to handle tough, dangerous men like them. I listened to their rant, shrugged and told them, “Never underestimate the quiet ones.”

For my part, I hated this interaction, but I reminded myself they were thinking and feeling a lot of things that had nothing to do with me. While their logic was flawed, and many of their decisions were questionable, I felt the best thing I could do was keep coming back and be okay with it taking a long time to build morale. I saved my need to scream until I was in my car, and apologized to my family when I still had frustration left when I got home.

Eventually, gradually, the kids got the opportunity to start testing again. There are still ongoing restrictions, like having to take their final tests offsite. (The GED consists of 8 tests in 4 subjects. The kids can take the Ready, and mandatory pretest, onsite, but have to go elsewhere for the Officials). However, the mood improved once they could make visible progress. The most resistant guys being released also helped. They started to see that I actually can teach them things that make the tests obtainable. They also seem to like that I am frank about what I do and do not know, and what the actual possibilities are.

But honestly, what had the biggest impact on morale is that I had to miss a week in December. While I was gone, they realized they actually kind of liked having me around.

 A piece of advice often shared is “you’ve got the make sure the kids know you care about them.” That sounds good, but I would just say “care for them.” Genuinely care for them. While related to what I said Part 1 about finding ways to enjoy the kids, caring is not the same. You can care for someone and not enjoy them at all. That takes work. For me, it is often an intentional choice.

Making it harder is you also have to accept that the kids may never know that your care is sincere. Their brokenness is such that they are incapable of understanding what it looks like to have someone sincerely care about them. They can’t trust it or believe it. Other kids are master manipulators. They see affection from others as an opportunity for gains. A positive response from them can’t be the goal. Is it really care if contingent on their response?

One incident that illustrates some of this involves a kid I’m going to call FR (not his actual initials). FR was highly intelligent and heavily desired to be in control. If he couldn’t be in charge, he at least wanted to treated as an equal. As a result, he was very manipulative and prone to angry outbursts when he didn’t get his way.

FR struggled with math. He’d passed almost every other test, but after several attempts, still hadn’t gotten a passing score on the Math Ready. In his frustration, he wouldn’t work with me or study on his own. He had a lot of reasons his inability to pass was somebody else’s fault. He regularly cussed me out, saying I didn’t know how to teach. One day, when he was being particularly sulky, I flat out told him his excuses were bullshit. Referencing one of his more infamous cons, I told him I didn’t see why anyone who could successfully work all those angles couldn’t shift a couple of numbers around to find x. He clearly had the strategic thinking skills.

He passed the Ready a week later.

Later, he sought me out to thank me. Unfortunately, his thanks involved some highly inappropriate flirting. It took all my acquired experience to remind myself that FR likely grew up in a highly sexualized environment, where all appreciation for women involved suggestive language. I also recognized this was the first “positive” gesture he’d ever made towards me. As much as I was cringing, I knew it was important to accept intent of the compliment without deriding him for the language.
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I did not enjoy that interaction at all, and I am grateful I had the awareness to see his perspective. It gave me the ability to choose to care about him in that moment. I don’t remember what I said, but I do know the conversation ended well.

In short, I’m glad I chose to care about that turd.